


Need a Dispenser Here!

by kakawot



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003)
Genre: Action, Fights, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-31 17:19:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakawot/pseuds/kakawot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A turtle's shell is incredibly hard and durable. And it makes for some unique combat situations. Poor Donatello.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need a Dispenser Here!

**Author's Note:**

> After watching the CGI-movie where Raphael got a shuriken-like-sharp-pointy-thing stuck in his shell, it occurred to me that in the 2003-series, you rarely see them use their shells for defense. Or anything, really.  
> So of course I had to create an absurd situation to have some fun with it.

A turtle's shell is incredibly hard and durable. It's made out of keratin and can withstand all kinds of attacks from all kinds of animals and ninjas. The shells of four mutated turtles are as hard as any turtle's shell, and they made good use of that. Whenever they managed to get into a fight, they paid less heed to weapon-attacks aimed at their backs, for their shells would stop the weapon from reaching their vital organs. It wasn't what their master had taught them, but then again, their master didn't possess a life-saving shell. It just came with being a turtle.

But one night one of the turtle's shells would serve a whole other purpose.

It was a moonlit night over the smog-ridden city of New York, illuminating the concrete jungle. The moonlight reached a small warehouse by the docks, overshadowed by far larger and more modern warehouses. But then again, this warehouse served as a minor base for the Foot-clan, so whether the warehouse contained the most recent developments in technology for sorting did not matter.

Tonight, the warehouse was a battleground. The turtles had encountered some Foot-ninja when they were on patrol. The Foot-ninja had fled, but Raphael, never one to back away from a good fight, had leapt after them. With a sigh, his brothers followed to assist him. The Foot-ninja had dropped down into the warehouse, the Turtles not far behind. But in an assassination-attempt, they had placed several bombs throughout the warehouse, to be exploded should the base be compromised.

And when you had four turtles going Hulk-smash, you could say it had been compromised. The Foot-ninja were distracting the turtles from realizing they were fighting on top of some very explosive devices, ready to bolt when the bomb only had ten seconds left on the counter.

Unfortunately for the ninja, Donatello had joined the patrol, and he was more observant than his brother Raphael, who was kicking Foot-ninja left and right. He noticed the patterns of the ninja diverged from the usual, and he soon spotted the few stray computers used for the base tucked away in a corner. The Foot-ninja were trying to keep the turtles from noticing the computers, but no such luck. With a twist and a hand flip he was at the keyboard, and quickly pressed a button to get it out of sleep-mode.

And once again the common Foot-ninja displayed their lack of technogeekery. Numbers were flashing on the screen, a countdown by the looks of it.

_Not even hidden. Very sloppy._

Two minutes before this building would most likely blow sky high. Now, if only he could disable the program and halt the countdown, he and his brothers could enjoy another night of glorious life.

"Got to take care of this bomb!" he called to his brothers, trusting them to cover his back as he let his too-large fingers dance over the keyboard.

And, sure enough, Michelangelo yelled: "Got your back!"

He heard the distinct 'thwack' as his brother's nunchucks collided with an unfortunate Foot-ninja's head two feet behind him. Then, he tuned out the roar of battle as he concentrated on disabling the bomb. As such, he didn't notice when one of Michelangelo's nunchucks was pulled from his grasp. He didn't hear the youngest brother call for a sai, but he did notice when his shell suddenly became a target.

With a dull ' thunk' one of Raphael’s sai embedded itself in Donatello's shell, leaving behind a nice deep scar among the countless others.

"Thanks, Raph!" Michelangelo called, pulled the sai from Donatello's shell and continued defending his brother. Shaking off the incident, Donatello slipped with practiced ease back in his concentrated mindset and was halfway through disabling the program of the bomb when a second 'thunk' alerted him to the return of Raphael’s single sai to his shell. This time it was Raphael who pulled the weapon from Donatello, judging by the deep-voiced battle yell right next to the genius turtle.

Which meant that Michelangelo was off somewhere else, doing his nunchuck routine. Or maybe he was surrounded by Foot-ninja and unable to assist Donatello so Raphael had had to jump in.

_No time to worry about him, got to disable this bomb!_

Don chastised himself, and once again dove into the wondrous world of computers and codes. Only to be shaken back to the real world when a third 'thunk' reached his ears, and this time the impact on his shell was a lot harder. Instinctively he glanced over his shoulder and his eyes widened at the sight of one of Leonardo's katana embedded in his shell.

_Now this is just getting ridiculous._

He saw Leonardo running towards him, disabling two more Foot-ninja on his way, before performing a somersault and landing next to Don. Without so much as a glance at the somewhat insulted genius Leonardo tore his thrown sword from Don's shell and continued his one-turtle-rampage.

_Forty-three seconds before this warehouse goes up in flames!_

Don realized, and continued his frantic typing. Even in his semi-panicked state his ninja instincts alerted him to the arrival of several fast shuriken, aimed at his back. Without turning around he twirled his bo with his left hand behind him, deflecting the shuriken aimed at his head and legs. The rest made more 'thunks' as they too embedded themselves in his shell.

There. He had disabled the bomb, with twenty seconds to spare. Not his best work, but who could blame him, when his shell seemed to have acquired a bull’s-eye this night.

"Don! Behind you!" came the call from Michelangelo, and not a moment too soon. Blindly trusting his brother, Don thrust his bo backwards and was rewarded with a grunt as it collided with a Foot-ninja wielding a sharp sword. The Foot-ninja's swing meant for the turtle's head came up short. And for the fourth time that night, a weapon got stuck in Don's abused shell.

_Oh, come ON!_

Unfortunately for his anger issues, the ninja Don had knocked out was one of the last still standing. When he turned around to survey the scene, his brothers made short work of the three remaining ninja.

His brothers congratulated each other on a job well done, and almost didn't notice the simmering anger in the genius' eyes. When Don spoke with a low voice, articulating his every syllable, even Michelangelo knew his brother had something important to say.

"I know you all had reasons to make use of my shell this evening," he began as he pulled the sword from his shell. "But next time," he narrowed his eyes and started pulling the shuriken, "please don't use my shell as a weapons dispenser."


End file.
